one hundred words

Jovial accusations and their subsequent retractions aside - which is exactly where they ought to stay, for goodness’ sake - it’s always very amusing to me, the self-fulfilling nature of certain discussions between certain parties. Such blatant condescension used to ‘explain’ the misuse of a word that describes the very condescension being indulged in!  Also, if the other party behaved the way this one does on every instance of discrimination - whining and guilt-tripping and shameless reductio ad absurdum - then this party would actually be within their rights to come to the very conclusions they’re being criticised for... Ho-hum. 

I dread to think of what my percentages would be, but it is incredibly satisfying to have got things done for once, even if the fact it was possible is predicated on a day of hardly any actual ‘real’ work. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m still way behind on near enough everything I’m supposed to do, but give me a list and a random number generator, and I can suddenly get all sorts of miscellaneous things done, solely because I’m a slave to the static.  The static of “true randomness”, that is. Random.Org taught me that long ago. 

 I think, broadly speaking, the coronavirus period will seem like one large chunk of fairly uniform time, when looked back on over the years, but speaking now, while it’s happening, it seems to sort itself into distinct eras.  And I don’t even mean different lockdowns, spikes in the statistics, or seasonal activities. I mostly mean in terms of people. Precise group dynamics that recur intensely for a couple of weeks but then fracture. People you perhaps texted twice over the summer suddenly becoming pillars of your life come the winter.  Curious how the pronouns shift when it comes to regrets.

 Maybe this will change over time, but the goal of 100 words seems further off in a stream of consciousness than it ever did for the fiction ones I’ve done of these. I assumed it would be easier to just... start typing, and not worry about cramming in any sense of plot.  Maybe a prompt list will be needed after all, Just a Minute-style. At some point I’ll try ‘em in Italian or Spanish, too. That might turn out to be easier, since I have to beat around bushes at the best of times to avoid words I don’t know. 

Well, here goes. As if I didn’t have enough of them, here’s yet another silly project for me to give up on, and starting off backdated to boot.  Something about months that begin on a Monday always makes me feel like I should make a Start™ of something, and this one happens to be a perfectly rectangular February (4 exact weeks), which just compounds this particular brand of idiocy.  I have so many things to get finished, too, so there really is less than no reason for this. Reasonability in the negative direction. Just the way I like my endeavours!